


A pleasant chat

by another_Hero



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: DJL Park Prompt, Food, M/M, mention of bugs, the outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_Hero/pseuds/another_Hero
Summary: Two people go to the park and sit on a bench and have a pleasant chat





	A pleasant chat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nilolay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilolay/gifts).

> I'd have been terribly disappointed if I didn't post a park bench fic on this, Park Bench Fic Day.
> 
> This is for nilo because of how I accidentally wrote pornographic milkshake consumption

“Hey,” says Patrick, holding up a cup from the café—not coffee, a cup for something cold. It’s Sunday, when they close at one, and it’s now 1:17, and David, having finished closing up _by himself_, was almost ready to leave alone. He’d complain, but he doesn’t know what’s in the cup. He comes around the counter. Patrick’s already on his way out the door. “Let’s go to the park.”

“Um,” says David, because first Patrick abandoned him, and now he’s trying to make him go where bugs are. “Parks are for children.” And people who don’t have the money to rent out the botanical gardens to get some private time in carefully-curated nature—all right, maybe his old attitudes about parks are going to be hard to maintain, but this is Schitt’s Creek, so he can’t really imagine what the park would have to offer. Broken swings and a sex bench, probably, and members of the public out on their day off. Still, Patrick brought him—something—and he wants it, probably.

“It’s a beautiful day, David,” Patrick says in that voice that always makes David worry maybe Patrick thinks he’s David’s dad, except not David’s actual dad, who—well, he’d probably use a beautiful day as an excuse to talk David into something, too, it’s just that that thing wouldn’t likely be outside. But Patrick hands him the cup then.

It has a lid. He takes off the lid to find out what it is.

“It’s a milkshake, David.” In that same voice. It’s chocolate.

“Okay, um,” says David, “we need to stop by the café. There’s no whipped cream on this.” He pauses and frowns. “Thank you,” he says, with a wiggle of his head that’s probably cute; “we need to stop by the café. There’s no whipped cream on this.”

Patrick looks—not quite annoyed, maybe bemused. So the being cute didn’t work, then. “They didn’t have any, David.”

David nods and takes a sip of his milkshake because he’s pretty sure Patrick was trying to do something nice for him, though he’s still suspicious about the park situation. “This,” he says—“not terrible.” It is a surprise. He softens. “This is very nice, thank you.”

Patrick beams, of course he does; that’s all he ever wants to hear. His hand goes to David’s back, and he steers him toward—the park, which might be a little harder to appreciate.

“We’re still going to the park,” David observes.

“Don’t worry, David,” Patrick says. “If we see a moth, I’ll protect you.”

“Okay, but you know that’s not how it works. First of all because their trajectories can be unpredictable, and second of all because moths aren’t scared of you.”

“It’s going to be great,” Patrick says. “We’re going to sit on a bench—”

“We can’t sit on the sex bench.”

“—And drink our milkshakes—”

“My milkshake will be finished before we get to the park.”

“—And chat!”

Patrick looks so delighted at the prospect of a chat that David almost doesn’t have it in him to remind Patrick that they work together, and spend more evenings together than not, and also mornings. Almost. “Chat,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” says Patrick warmly, and it’s very cute, so David keeps drinking his milkshake and walks to the park.

“So, um,” he says—Patrick hasn’t tried to make him sit on the sex bench, so he’s standing in the grass, and he guesses they’re just gonna walk in circles around the tennis court—“what did you want to—chat about?” True to his word, David has finished his milkshake. There isn’t a trashcan here. Patrick leans into him and holds his drink up in front of David, straw somewhere in the vicinity of David’s mouth. David isn’t above bending his head to chase it. Patrick’s is vanilla.

“We don’t have to chat _about_ anything. You finished that book yesterday. Did you like it?”

“Um,” says David, and he’s really, really torn between staying here pressed up against Patrick and stepping over to leave his empty cup on the tennis court until they leave, but he stays, for now, “the point wasn’t to _like_ it, really? It was about a war, so.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say I _like_ ethnic conflict, but. It was very good.”

“Good,” says Patrick. “How did you end up with a book about ethnic conflict?”

“Well, first of all, you can’t be too picky if you want a book from the Schitt’s Creek library that doesn’t have any stains.” David may be desperate for reading material, but he’s not so desperate that he’ll brave other people’s bodily fluids. The library’s run by volunteers, on donations, so in a sense he’s lucky he gets anything that isn’t James Patterson.

“And second of all?” Patrick says it in a voice that means he’s looking at David’s mouth, but Patrick is the one who brought them to a _park_. They’re surrounded by ants and acquaintances.

“What about you?” says David. “What have you…been…thinking about?” That’s either an excellent question or a terrible question. He still isn’t entirely sure he hasn’t been lured here under false pretenses for a serious discussion.

“Hey, I didn’t lure you here under false pretenses to have a serious discussion,” Patrick says. “If I want to talk to you about something, I know where to find you. All I was thinking about today was that it’s pretty outside, and it would be nice to spend some time together.”

It is, basically. David gets an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and says, “Okay.”

“Oh, that’s so nice, Patrick, I love spending time with you too. Come on, I feel weird walking in circles, let’s sit on this bench.”

David shudders. “Patrick, people _definitely_ have sex on that bench.”

“All right, David, _I’m_ going to sit on the bench, and I’m happy to watch you walk around or to sit next to you.”

David grimaces, evaluates, and lowers himself carefully onto Patrick’s lap, a hand on each of his shoulders, avoiding contact with anything else.

“Perfect,” Patrick says, in that forgot-we-were-in-public voice again.

David’s flattered, but he can’t forget they’re in public and doesn’t want to, so he takes Patrick’s milkshake, which is now David’s milkshake. He takes a long, ridiculous suck of it. Pulls in his cheeks unnecessarily. Makes a point of wiping a nonexistent bit of extra milkshake from his mouth with his thumb. “So,” he says, now that he’s sure of Patrick’s attention. “We’ve come to the park. We’ve sat on the bench. I would venture to say we’ve _chatted_.”

“Mm,” says Patrick, nodding along.

David takes another drag on the milkshake.

“You know, I’d say this excursion has been a success,” says Patrick. _There it is._ “You’ve convinced me. We can finish our chat at home.”

“Good,” says David. He finishes the milkshake. The café clearly designed them for children. “I can’t wait. I love to chat.” He’s holding one cup in each hand, which is ridiculous; when he stands up, Patrick slides in between his hands to lay a kiss on the underside of his jaw. He starts walking backwards, and David follows him toward the edge of the park; Patrick turns and ducks under David’s right shoulder. So now he’s got a hand with a disposable cup in it around his boyfriend’s neck, like some _sports player_ or _New Orleans tourist_. But Patrick’s got a hand on his wrist, is sliding his arm back, has his mouth on the joint of David’s thumb—“Hey!” David says, jerking it away only slightly. “We’re in public!”

“Yeah,” says Patrick sadly.

“What happened to, it’s a beautiful day, let’s—look at the sun or whatever?”

Patrick grinned. “Do you think that’s what people do when they spend time outside, David? Look at the sun?”

“How am _I_ supposed to know?” David isn’t in proper distress, but he makes a point of sounding as shrill as he can.

Patrick shakes his head. “You’ll never find out now,” he says. He pushes David sideways, just gently and then harder, into a fence. “It’s too late.” He says it into David’s mouth.

“Thank God,” David murmurs, and he lets Patrick kiss him for a second, but he’s holding two empty milkshake cups, one in each hand, so he shoves him away after a second with an elbow on each shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “We’re going home.”


End file.
